Red
by LucyInTheSkyWithStories
Summary: On the day of her father's funeral, she wore red.
1. A Williams Never Cries

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 **A/N: This story is rated M for violence and mature themes.**

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(A Williams Never Cries)

Six days after her thirteenth birthday, Anna Williams crept down the dimly lit hallway. She was little more than a child but had already been taught how to kill. She moved toward the library in slow and measured steps, silent as a shadow. She knew she would find him there.

At the sight of the open door, Anna bit her lower lip and flattened herself against the wall and inched ever closer. When she reached it, she carefully craned her neck as far as it could go and peered inside. She didn't see anyone, but she was sure that he was there. Moving back into position, she tucked her long, brown hair behind her ears then went down on her hands and knees then crawled slowly inside.

To her left, was a cherrywood desk and empty, leather chair, to her right, six rows of dark, wooden bookcases parallel to each other. She froze when she heard the unmistakable turning of pages behind one of the bookcases.

 _It's the second...no, third row._

The floor in the room was dark polished hardwood, so she removed her shoes and raised herself into a crouched position, she put her hand on the knife tucked into her belt and began to advance toward the sound slow step by slow step. She stood upright when she reached the first row of bookcases and flattened her body against the side; she was small enough to conceal herself from view.

She pulled the knife out of her belt and moved to the second row; she felt her breath hitch in her throat when she realized that her target was standing next to the second bookcase, not the third. She didn't know if he had seen her but knew that it was now or never, she wasn't going to fail again. Anna turned to the side and held her breath as she peered behind the bookcase. He had his back turned; there would be no better opportunity.

 _Kick the back of his knee to bring him down lower, then slash his throat._

It was the best she could come up with.

She left her hiding place and leapt at her target, but before she could strike, he spun around, his arm outstretched. She was barely able to block his backhand, it hit her on the wrist and made her lose her balance, she regained it by putting her hand against the bookcase, that was when she realized that she had somehow lost her knife.

"That was pitiful, Anna." Richard Williams shook his head as he looked disdainfully at his youngest daughter. "Are you regressing?"

Anna looked down at her bare feet, her wrist hurt but she didn't want him to know so she kept her arms at her sides.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I miscalculated your position and when I realized it was too late to-"

"That is why you should always have a plan B." He shook his head. "What were you going to do? Kick the back of the knee and slash the throat?"

She felt her cheeks flush. "Yes."

He sighed. "Your attacks are too predictable."

She looked up at him her blue eyes burning into his. "That's because you know all my moves and you've taught me half of them."

"Don't look at me like that." He chastised. "And you're supposed to take what I teach you and change it, make it your own. Nina," he said looking behind Anna, "what did she do wrong."

Anna shook her head, of course Nina was there. She turned around and saw her older sister, she was wearing her long, blonde hair in a braid, that usually meant that she and her father were going out of the house for training.

Nina looked apologetically at Anna as she spoke. "With your lack of experience and in these narrow spaces and close quarters, and with someone who is more experienced and bigger than you, you'd be better off using a gun and waiting close to the exit if you're certain he'll be leaving and you know when. If you're not sure, again, a gun, stay low and stay with your back to the wall, always. Your entrance was good though." She added with a small smile. Richard cleared his throat and Nina looked down at the floor. "...But crawling was a little unnecessary; crouching would have sufficed."

Richard shook his head as he looked at Nina. "Don't ever lie to your sister to protect her feelings. It could get her killed."

Nina nodded. "Yes, Daddy, I'm sorry."

He turned his attention to Anna. "Do you know how many times Nina's bested me?" He put the book in his hand back in the bookcase.

Anna sighed. "Four." She said dejectedly.

He held up his hand and turned his palm toward her. " _Five._ She surprised me in my office this morning. She picked the lock and was waiting for me inside," he smiled as he looked at Nina, "she put a gun to my temple."

"That's not fair," Anna protested, "I didn't know we were allowed to pick locks."

"I can't tell you everything, Anna; you've got to figure some of it out on your own, how will you ever get close enough to your target if they hear you coming? If you don't even have the foresight to pick a lock?"

Anna shrugged. "I have other ways to get close."

Her father's jaw tightened as he looked at her with furrowed brows. "What are you talking about?" He took a step toward her and raised his index finger. "No daughter of mine will resort to _those_ shameful tactics, don't ever say it, don't even think it."

"Daddy," Nina spoke quietly, "she's only thirteen, that's not what she means."

Anna felt the heat rise in her face when she realized what her father was referring to. She shook her head. "No, I meant being friendly, striking up a conversation-"

"Now you want to become friends with your targets? Draw attention to yourself?" He sighed and shook his head. "And why are you wearing that skirt? It's too short."

Anna looked down at the floor but didn't say anything.

"She's wearing leggings under it." Nina defended.

"Leopard print," Richard looked at Anna. "What message is that sending?"

"That I'm better at fashion than I am at murder!" Anna said exasperated, she immediately looked down and clasped her hands behind her back knowing that she had overstepped.

"Go to your room and dress like a proper young woman."

"Yes, Father." Anna bit her lip to keep from saying anything that would add more time to her training for the day, she knew that failing to overcome her father meant he had already added an hour.

Richard looked at Nina. "Are you ready?"

"Almost."

He checked his watch. "I'll see you downstairs in fifteen minutes."

Anna was glad that her father would be out of the house soon, sometimes it felt like he sucked the air out of the room. "Where are you going?" She asked her sister.

"Nowhere that concerns you," Richard responded. "I'll put more trust in you once you're able to surprise me."

He said it was to measure their progress; he expected his daughters to overpower him and perform a mock assassination whenever the opportunity arose. Once they exceeded his expectations, they were to be tested in the field. Anna dreaded that day. _Five times._ She looked at Nina and wondered if that was where they were going.

"Fourteen minutes, Nina," Richard said before exiting the library.

"Where are you going?" Anna asked again once her father was out of earshot.

Nina shrugged and put her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "I don't know, he hasn't told me."

"Why didn't you tell me we were allowed to pick locks?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know," she sighed then fixed her blue eyes on Anna, "he says he wants you to figure it out on your own, and he's right." Anna crossed her arms and looked sullenly at her. "I'm not trying to make things harder for you," Nina put her hand on her shoulder, "I'm trying to make sure you're prepared when it's your turn."

Anna knew that her sister's concern was genuine, she knew that Nina tried her best to fill the void that their mother had left. But even though she acted much older than her years, Nina was only fifteen, a measly twenty-five months older than her and being trained to be an assassin, not the best person to take the place of her mother, but still, she tried. It was more than their father had ever done.

Anna looked her sister in the eye. "Is it _your_ turn today?"

Nina smiled then looked at the clock above the door. "I need to finish getting ready." She began walking toward the exit then stopped and looked at Anna over her shoulder. "Don't try to get out of training that extra hour, I'm sure he's told Auntie by now."

Anna was not at all surprised that Nina kept their destination secret, she always did what her father asked. But Anna didn't resent Nina because she had disobeyed their father when Anna had needed her the most.

Anna and Nina's mother, Rebecca, had died in a car accident fourteen months prior. After hearing the news, Anna felt lost not knowing who she could turn to and would burst into tears spontaneously while Nina remained stoic. The day before the funeral Richard had taken Anna aside and told her not to shed tears in public or even in private. _A Williams Never Cries,_ he had said, then warned her that if he saw her cry, there would be dire consequences. Anna didn't know exactly what consequences he meant, but she knew that he was serious, he wasn't one to carry out corporal punishment, but there was something about the way he spoke that day that scared her. She kept a stoic expression at the funeral and throughout that day. That night Nina had opened her bedroom door then crawled into her bed.

"Are you all right?" Nina whispered.

"Fine," Anna said dejectedly.

"You were so quiet today."

"I'm fine," she repeated robotically.

"It's okay to cry," Nina said taking her hand, "I won't tell him."

Anna sighed. "A Williams never cries."

Nina pulled the covers over herself then reached for the lamp on the bedside table and turned it off. "Remember last year when Mummy and Daddy went on holiday?" Anna nodded because she didn't trust herself to speak without crying even though she knew that Nina couldn't see her in the dark. "They were gone for more than two weeks, and I didn't miss her at all, I wished they had stayed away longer." She inhaled sharply. "...But it's only been three days, and I already miss her so much that it hurts...it hurts right here in my chest and I…" Her body began to shake and Anna put her arms around her older sister.

They both cried themselves to sleep that night. For more than two weeks Nina would come into her room at night, and they would cry together in the dark then never speak of it the next day. When they had no more tears to shed, they said nothing, but Anna felt comforted by her sister's presence nonetheless. Eventually, Nina stopped going to Anna's room; but it was months after their mother's death.

She never spoke of it and never disobeyed her father again. But Anna was grateful for her sister's one act of rebellion.

Anna picked up her shoes and made her way to the sitting room downstairs. From the top of the stairs, she could see her aunt Christina sitting on the red velvet sofa, leafing through a magazine. Christina Williams was the only other living Williams, she was beautiful and had inherited the blond hair that ran in most of the Williams family. She looked like a woman in her early thirties, but she had to be at least ten years older.

Upon Rebecca's death, Richard had asked his sister to come live with them and be a mother figure to the girls. Christina had left her life and her boyfriend in Vienna for them. Anna thought it completely unnecessary. She didn't mind having her aunt around, but they already had a maid and a cook, all Christina did was attend dinner parties with her snobby friends, go shopping, and take trips to Vienna to see her boyfriend. Anna wished that her aunt had stayed in Vienna and gotten married or whatever she wanted to do, at least one Williams deserved to be happy.

She descended the stairs and went to join her aunt on the sofa.

Christina closed her magazine then smiled at Anna. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Auntie, I like your dress."

She smoothed down the skirt of her blue, long-sleeved dress. "Thank you, I bought it in Paris last month, Viktor surprised me with the trip on our two year anniversary."

Anna nodded. "I remember."

Christina set her magazine on the coffee table and picked up saucer and cup. "What's wrong, dear?" She asked before taking a delicate sip of her beverage.

Anna shrugged. "I failed again, that's all."

Her aunt set the saucer and cup back on the table. "It's nothing that practice can't fix." She looked pointedly at Anna and took her hand. "Is that what's really bothering you? You seem troubled."

Anna gave her a forced smile. _I think my sister is about to go on her first field mission and I'm scared for her._ But she knew she couldn't say that, she could never tell anyone. Still, she knew Christina's concern was genuine. When she wasn't too busy with her own social life, she could be a good listener. Anna couldn't tell her what was really troubling her, but she decided to share one thing that had bothered her that morning.

"Daddy's always disappointed in me and thinks that I can't do anything right," she spoke quietly as she looked down at her aunt's perfectly manicured, red nails. "He even complains about the way I dress."

Christina sighed and patted her hand. "Don't worry about that, you're thin and you're pretty, changing your style won't be difficult, anything will look good on you. I can even take you shopping one of these days if you want."

Anna gently pulled her hand away. Christina reminded her of the popular girls in her school, they had wanted her in their clique, but Anna rejected them because that was exactly what everyone expected of her.

She heard her father's heavy footsteps and immediately corrected her posture. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and put his hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket.

"We should be back before morning." Richard looked at his sister and didn't even acknowledge Anna.

Christina nodded. "Very good."

Nina walked quickly down the stairs as she zipped up her black, hooded jacket while trying to keep the straps of her duffle bag on her shoulder.  
Richard looked at his watch. "One minute to spare." He shook his head. "Too close."

Nina nodded. "I will do better next time."

"Let's go," he looked at his eldest daughter. "We can't waste time." Richard headed toward the exit without sparing Anna so much as a glance.

Nina gave Anna a reassuring smile before following her father, but Anna couldn't return it. She watched as they walked across the entrance hall and out the heavy, wooden door. When it closed, the silence seemed deafening, and Anna spoke not because she was interested in a conversation, but because she needed to break the silence.

"Do you miss Viktor?"

Christina looked taken aback by her question but gave her a genuine smile. "I do."

"Is he a banker like Daddy's an investment manager?"

Her aunt smiled and reached for her cup on the coffee table. "What do you mean?"

It took every bit of self-restraint that she possessed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She hated that everyone treated her either like she was a child or an adult, it all depended on whatever was convenient for them at the moment. No one ever thought to treat her like the person that she really was, a thirteen-year-old girl who missed her mother.

She decided to answer her aunt's question even though it was terribly condescending. "I mean, like...if you gave him a .45 would he know what to do with it?"

Christina giggled. "The only 45 he would know how to use is a record."

Anna tried to smile politely at her aunt's attempt at humor, but she couldn't do it. Christina sighed and looked at Anna with concern. "You're worried," she stood up and walked to the ornate fireplace, "maybe it would help if we prayed." She opened a small wooden box on top of the mantel and pulled out her rosary.

Anna tried to keep the bitterness from her voice but found it impossible. "Mother prayed every day and it never did any good."

"Maybe she was praying for the wrong thing," Christina suggested as she made her way back to the sofa.

Anna chuckled, she wondered if Christina was naive and genuine or if she really was _that_ deep in denial. The more likely choice was that she thought Anna was a child who could be fed lies and who believed in fairytales.

"What's the right thing to pray for then?" She asked despite herself.

"Let's pray for a successful mission for Richard and Nina, and for their safe return."

Anna shrugged as she watched her lace the beads around her fingers and mirrored her aunt touching her forehead, her chest and her left and right shoulder in the sign of the cross. She watched as Christina moved her lips but didn't hear her words, she tuned them out, they were meaningless to her. Still, despite herself, she prayed for Nina's safe return, nothing and no one else mattered, all she wanted was her sister, her best friend.

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 **A/N:** I am extremely proud of myself because this story is actually finished. It is about 30k words long and 10 or 12 chapters, I may have to adjust that a little but it won't change much. It will be told solely from Anna's point of view. There are plenty of Nina stories out there and some are actually very good and very well written. It seems like poor Anna is always dismissed or tossed aside and I wanted to give her the story that I feel she deserves because I think that there is so much more to her character than meets the eye. I wanted to explore her origins and figure out what the hell actually happened between her and Nina that made them hate each other. All the info we have is so vague. So be warned, lots of headcanon with this one.


	2. Pray

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(Pray)

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It had been another wasted Saturday. Nothing but worry and boredom laced with grueling aikido training. Anna was in the basement of her home, a place that normal families used as additional living space or storage. In the Williams home, however, its sole purpose was for martial arts and weapons training. Anna's mother had once taught both her and Nina self-defense in that basement, but those lessons quickly morphed into intense sparring sessions led by Richard after Rebecca had died. That was when the weapons training had started.

 _Advanced_ weapons training for Nina, which meant that Richard took her out of the house for target practice sometimes. Anna was a better shot than Nina most of the time, but her father said that it didn't matter because they were stationary targets and anyone could hit anything if it wasn't moving.

Anna looked up at the clock. Twenty minutes left. She raised her Glock and aimed at the target then emptied what was left of her magazine.

Head, head, heart; heart, heart, head.

 _Perfect._

She wondered if Nina was shooting a gun as well.

"Pray for the right thing." Anna mimicked her aunt's voice as she released the magazine. "Pray!" She laughed as she reloaded. "Hail Mary, full of grace, The Lord is with thee..." She raised her gun and emptied her magazine on the target.

Perfection again; too bad no one was there to see it.

Done with training for the day, Anna cleaned the area then headed upstairs. It was too late to go anywhere, but it didn't matter because Christina would not take her anywhere on a day when Nina and Richard were doing field training. On her way to her bedroom she heard Christina speaking in German, that usually meant that she was on the phone with Viktor. Hearing the kitchen door open she stopped midway up the stairs and turned toward the sound, she saw Marie, the cook, stepping out with her coat and bag in hand.

"You made beef stew!" Anna swiftly made her way down the stairs following the familiar and comforting scent of fresh herbs and spices.

Marie gave her a kind smile. "And I've made apple cake too, but you'll have to eat your stew first." She added in mock admonishment.

Anna laughed. "I promise. You're leaving early?"

"Miss Christina let me leave for the day. My daughter and granddaughter are coming down from Galway to see me."

"I didn't know you had a granddaughter."

"Four grandsons and one granddaughter. Everyone treats her like a princess, her brothers especially. Overprotective if you ask me."

"Is she little?"

"No, she's fourteen, thinks that she's eighteen sometimes, but she's a good girl."

"Oh." Anna couldn't help the pang of jealousy that settled in her heart but still managed a genuine smile. "I'm going to wash up before I eat. Thank you, Marie. I'll see you on Monday."

"Enjoy," Marie said as she walked toward the front door.

"Have fun with your family."

Anna headed up the stairs for a quick shower. She hoped that Marie's granddaughter appreciated what she had. A mother and a grandmother, brothers who protected her... No, the naive girl probably thought her life was boring. She wondered how many of the girls from her school thought their lives were boring, how many of them spent _boring_ Saturdays with families and went on _boring_ weekend trips.

Everything would be different if her mother were still living.

When Rebecca was alive, there had been time for a social life; she had always made sure that their lives were as balanced as possible. Anna knew that her mother had given both her and Nina as normal a life as she had been able. Their mother had organized birthday parties for both of her girls until Nina had said that she was too old for that 'little kid' stuff. But even when Nina steered away from the things that normal girls her age liked to do, Rebecca always made sure that Anna had a party on her birthday and arranged playdates so that she could have friends to invite. That was how she had met Margaret, her best friend since they were seven years old.

Anna loved Nina as much as any girl could love her sister. And though she was her best and only friend now, there had been a time when Margaret Callahan had been like a sister to her. She was a month younger than Anna, a beautiful girl with coppery hair and sparkling, green eyes. Though not as mischievous as Anna, Margaret was always up for an adventure; as much of an adventure as two little girls could manage in their garden. The two girls were inseparable, and as they grew older, their mothers let them go shopping on their own or took them to the beach on the weekend.

But it had been close to two years since she'd seen her friend. Margaret and her older brother Robbie had been sent to boarding school abroad. She had received a few letters from Margaret at first, but they soon stopped coming. New place, new friends; Anna didn't blame her. In the end, it didn't matter that Margaret was gone, she would have lost her as a friend after her mother died anyway, Anna herself would have pushed her away to keep her from seeing the pathetic mess that her life had become.

After her shower, Anna went downstairs for an early supper. Christina let her eat in the sitting room in front of the television set while she had drinks with one of her friends in the garden. Richard never allowed such a thing, but on days when he wasn't home, she could count on her aunt to relax the rules slightly.

Anna spent the rest of her evening looking through fashion magazines. Her father thoroughly disapproved of them and said that they contained no substance whatsoever. Instead, he wanted her to read the most boring books written in Irish, not even the fun stories about adventures. She didn't mind reading those, but according to her father, those didn't have any substance either, all they did was fill her head with useless information.

She smiled when she noticed that one of the male models looked like Robbie, Margaret's older brother. Anna had a crush on him from the moment she saw him. It didn't take long for Margaret to notice, but rather than laugh at her friend, she told Anna that she hoped she and Robbie could get married one day so that they could be real sisters. But Robbie was much older and never saw Anna as anything other than a little sister. And now that she was no longer a little girl, the idea just seemed silly and embarrassing.

Anna leafed through the magazines and cut out clothing or patterns that she liked before pasting them onto a piece of paper and making entirely new outfits. She wanted to be a fashion designer and have her own clothing line one day. When she told her mother, she had smiled and said that she could be whatever she wanted. But she didn't want to say anything to her father; he wouldn't let her. He had been explicitly clear when he told her that she was going to be in the business profession. He didn't say why, but she knew that a career in business would allow her to infiltrate many social circles completely unnoticed. She was sure that was the reason, though he didn't even bother to tell her.

She figured things out on her own because asking questions was frowned upon, yet she was always expected to know everything. She even had to figure out what her father's secondary profession and source of all the family secrets was; though now it was blatantly obvious. Anna remembered being ten years old and asking Nina about it.

"Is Daddy in the IRA?" She had asked her sister quietly as they studied at the dining table.

Nina sighed and didn't even look up from her book. "...Do you even know what that is?"

Anna thought for a moment trying to remember a report she had heard on the news. "They're against the Queen...right?"

Nina sighed again. "If you don't even know what it is, you shouldn't be talking about it."

Anna slammed her book shut in frustration. " _Everyone_ is talking about it."

Nina looked pointedly at her. " _We_ are not. And Daddy better not hear you."

Seeing that Nina would be no help and that she couldn't ask her parents, Anna began to put pieces together. She caught parts of a conversation here and there, read newspapers, and watched the news. Little by little she figured out that her father was not technically in the IRA, but he was a consultant of sorts. And matching up some of the dates that her father had been away to the dates of significant events had led her to believe that he worked for them from time to time.

She remembered a particular instance when there had been yelling and arguments between her parents behind closed doors on the same day a gun shipment from Libya had been intercepted before reaching Ireland. Nina had been tense and sullen that entire week.

"Are you upset?" Anna had asked her sister as she stood immobile in the garden watching through a window as their father paced the sitting room.

"I'm not upset," Nina said. "I'm learning."

Nina had been watching and learning from Richard as long as Anna could remember. And now she was out there, putting everything she'd learned to use. But what was it? Weapon deals? Murder? The thought terrified Anna; she knew _she'd_ never be able to take a life.

When night finally came, she lay in bed unable to settle, thinking about where Nina and Richard could have gone and what they could be doing. She played different scenarios in her head as she tossed and turned under her blankets. She imagined Nina coming home with a tear-stained face telling them that Richard was dead; Christina would immediately sell all their assets and take them both to Paris where they would live the rest of their lives under different names. Unfortunately, Viktor lived in Vienna, not Paris, and that was probably where Christina would take them. There was nothing particularly wrong with Vienna; Anna just didn't see herself being happy there.

As she was falling asleep, a terrifying scene played in her mind and jolted her into alertness. She imagined her father coming home distraught and with a bloodstained Nina cradled in his arms. Anna got out of bed and went down on her knees, her eyes shut tightly, and her hands clasped against her chest.

"I am so sorry I was disrespectful today, and I know that my family is terrible," she bowed her head as she spoke, "but it's not Nina's fault, she's just doing what Daddy asks her to do; itplease let her come home safe, please, please, please-"

She gasped as she heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle, she opened her eyes and saw the light from the headlights filter through her curtains. She quickly glanced at the clock on her bedside table; it was nearly one in the morning. When she heard footsteps in the hallway, she sat still on the edge of her bed waiting for Nina to come in and crawl under the covers with her and tell her everything about her day, but minutes passed, and no one came.

Fearing that something had happened to her sister, she walked out of her bedroom. She stopped short before knocking on Nina's door when she heard Christina's voice downstairs. She was talking to Richard, and she sounded agitated, Anna didn't remember her aunt ever raising her voice. She walked on bare feet toward the stairs and stopped near the top.

"She's fifteen, Richard." Christina's voice was tight and high. "What were you thinking?"

"You asked me that already." He answered evenly.

Anna peeked around the corner and saw her father wearing the same leather jacket that he had in the morning. He had a glass full of amber liquid in his hand. Christina was wearing a long, black nightgown with thin, lacey straps, she rubbed her arms and took a throw blanket from the sofa then wrapped it around her shoulders.

Christina shook her head. "You should have waited until she was older; until she came of age-"

"You don't know her the way I do," Richard defended. "She has skill beyond anything I've ever seen for someone her age, not just physically, but mentally as well; the way she strategizes, anticipates-"

"She's a child, Richard!"

"I was younger than she is and half as skilled, and-" Anna watched her father's back stiffen. "Go to bed Anna." He said without turning.

Christina's eyes shifted to the top of the stairs and locked with Anna's for a brief moment before she walked toward the fireplace and picked up the box with her rosary from the mantel. Anna didn't wait and turned slowly making her way toward Nina's room.

The walk felt ominous. There was a sudden weight in her chest that she couldn't explain. It reminded her of the day when they buried her mother and made her hesitate when she reached her sister's door. She stood for almost a full minute, her heart thumping in her chest. She finally plucked up the courage and knocked on her door.

No answer.

She knocked again.

No answer.

She could hear Richard and Christina still arguing downstairs. She wanted to know what had happened and she wanted to know if Nina was all right. She couldn't wait any longer. She slowly turned the doorknob then opened the door just a crack and peeked inside, Nina was standing in front of the full-length mirror with her back to the door. She wore the same clothes that she had in the morning though they looked wrinkled and her braid was in disarray. Anna opened the door and stepped inside.

"Nina?" Anna's voice was barely above a whisper; she felt like she was disturbing her; like she didn't want her there. "Nina, are you all right?" When her sister didn't answer, a heaviness settled in her chest and began to spread slowly to her limbs.

She looked at Nina's reflection. Wide, glassy eyes stared at nothing; her expression was blank. "...Nina?" Anna reached for her sister's hand, but she jerked it away. "What's wrong?"

Nina spoke without looking at Anna. "...Two years ago, I heard Mother arguing with Father in the library." Her tone was low and flat, almost robotic. "I didn't hear everything, but Mother threatened to leave him, said she was going to divorce him..." She turned to face Anna, but it was as if she were looking right through her. "...I wish she had and I wish she had taken you with her."

Anna stood looking at her sister not knowing how to respond.

"What are you talking about?"

"If she had been a good mother, she would still be alive, and you wouldn't be here."

"She _was_ a good mother." It hurt to hear Nina say that, Rebecca had been the best mother that any child could have wished for. "And you can't say that she would still be alive, that accident could have happened anywhere."

Nina scoffed. "There was no accident."

Anna could hear her heartbeat in her ears, could feel her temperature rising. "...It was. Daddy said that it was, it was even in the newspaper."

Nina shook her head. "He lied to protect us. It was a car bomb, and it was meant for Father."

Anna closed her eyes as bile threatened to rise to her throat. She tried to calm herself by breathing slowly through her nose, she tried to tell herself that Nina was lying, but everything began to make sense. The closed casket wake and funeral mass, Richard's irrational anger, his harsh training; the fact that he had taught them how to kill. Was it because he thought she and Nina were in danger?

Anna looked at her sister. "...Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know until recently." She replied coolly.

"Why are you acting like you don't care?"

Nina turned to face the mirror again and looked at her reflection. "I did care, but now it doesn't matter."

"Why?"

Nina shrugged. "Because no one has to worry about it anymore, I've taken care of it."

"...How?" She knew what it meant, but she wanted to be wrong. "Did Daddy make you do-"

"He didn't make me do anything. I did what needed to be done." Nina took off her jacket and dropped it on the floor.

"You...killed someone?" Anna pushed herself to ask, though she did not want to hear the answer.

"It was what he deserved..." Nina's voice trailed off.

"Mum wouldn't have wanted that."

Nina shrugged. "She doesn't have an opinion anymore."

Anna felt a rush of anger at her sister's lack of emotion. "So you're a killer like Father now?"

Nina turned toward the bed. "Turn off the light on your way out."

Anna grabbed Nina's arm. "Mother would be heartbroken if she knew what you've done!"

Nina wrenched her arm away. "If she was alive, and if she'd been a good mother, maybe her opinion would matter to me."

"Stop saying that, she _was_ a good mother."

"She didn't train you properly, and she didn't take you away." Nina's voice was low and harsh, it reminded Anna of her father. "A good mother would have done one of the two." She walked to her bed and pulled down the covers.

Not wanting to hear more, Anna left the room slamming the door behind her. Her heart was drumming in her chest, her face felt hot, but her hands were cold and shaking; she leaned against the wall for a few moments to regain some manner of composure.

How long had Nina known? How could she have kept that from her? They were supposed to tell each other everything. Who else knew? How could everyone look at her and say nothing? She wasn't stupid, and she wasn't a little girl. The truth hurt, but at least it was the truth.

When her heartbeat slowed, and her mind began to clear, she noticed the silence. Richard and Christina were done arguing. Feeling the need for fresh air, she walked toward the stairs hoping to sneak quietly outside. When she reached the top, she stopped, Christina was sitting on the sofa with her eyes closed and murmuring softly, the rosary beads laced around her fingers. Anna almost laughed at the absurdity of the scene. What good was her prayer going to do?

Not wanting to face her aunt or risk running into Richard, Anna turned around and slowly walked back to her bedroom. As her anger ebbed away, she felt the pain and tightness in her throat, the heaviness in her footsteps.

 _She was a good mother._

But Anna did wish that her parents had divorced, and she did wish that she could be somewhere beautiful like Paris alone with her mother. She didn't even want Nina around, not if she was going to behave like a younger version of Richard.

She got into her bed knowing that Nina would not come to comfort her. The haunting feeling of abandonment weighing her down.

"A Williams never cries," Anna spoke the words out loud through the aching knot in her throat, through the tears that should never have spilled, knowing that nothing could ever be the same.


	3. The Letter

.

(The Letter)

* * *

Mere weeks after her sixteenth birthday, Anna received a strange piece of mail; a thick envelope from an attorney's office in Dublin. It contained financial documents as well as a smaller, sealed envelope. Anna opened it, pulled out the white piece of paper and carefully unfolded it. Her heart began to drum in her chest as she immediately recognized the handwriting.

 _My sweet Anna,_

 _I will be blunt. The fact that you are reading this letter means that I have failed you. I hoped to watch you grow and guide you in life, but deep in my heart I always feared that I would not be given the opportunity, and so I wrote this letter._

 _Your father is involved in things that I have never condoned. When you and your sister were little, I turned a blind eye to it. It was a mistake. Now, he's teaching Nina, and she's taken to his teachings much more readily than I could have anticipated._

 _I don't want either of you to be brought up the way your father was, but Nina is comfortable, she wants to stay, and I can't leave her. Leaving her behind would be like leaving half of my heart. I am deeply sorry if my decisions have harmed you._

 _When I look into your eyes, and I see the joy you find in the world, the tears you cry when you are sad, I see that there is hope for you. I see that even if I am gone, you can be different from your father if you choose._

 _If you are reading this letter and my instructions were followed, you are sixteen years old; it is time to think about your future._

 _Enclosed, you will find documents to a bank account that you will be able to access on your eighteenth birthday. My father put it in my name hoping that one day, I'd be sensible enough to leave Richard and start a life somewhere else. As you know, my father has passed on, and I have failed, so I'm putting the account in your name._

 _Use that money in whatever way you see fit, I trust that you will make better decisions than I ever could. Do what you want, but please be happy, my darling._

 _I hope this will atone for my failings in some small way._

 _I will love you always._

Anna's hands shook as she read the letter again. She gave the documents a second look. It was a lot of money; it was a way out.

She read the letter over and over that day. When she had memorized every line, she found a safe place to store it. She put in a box full of old photographs knowing that Nina and Richard would never look through it as neither had room for sentimentality. She read the letter often and looked in the box every day just to make sure it was still there, to make sure it was real. She read it as she counted down the months, then the weeks, and finally the days until her eighteenth birthday. The day when she would be free.


	4. Twenty-nine Days

.

(Twenty-nine Days)

* * *

Anna sat on the soft grass as she gazed at the sunset above her. Grey and black clouds pushed against the golden brushstrokes of the receding sun. _Rain again._ She sighed and shivered slightly as the wind picked up making the leaves on the trees sway gracefully.

"It's gonna get dark soon."

Anna looked up at the girl sitting on the bench. Jenny, her best and only friend. She was sweet and brilliant and had stormy, grey eyes and lovely brown hair with natural highlights that were to die for. She could be stunning if she wanted to, but she didn't. She was not afraid to be herself and didn't care what others thought about how she should look. Jenny seemed to be Anna's polar opposite, but they were very much alike.

Some of the girls at school, the popular, rich, pretty ones had often asked Anna why she would even speak to someone like Jenny, let alone befriend her. It was obvious that they thought Jenny was beneath her, but in Anna's eyes, someone like Jenny shouldn't be socializing with someone like her because Anna was a screw-up who passed her classes and exams by the grace of God himself and had the most fucked up family in all of Ireland.

"What are we gonna do then?" Anna sat up and started rummaging through her purse, looking for a pack of cigarettes. She picked up her brown, suede jacket from the grass and looked in her pocket for the disposable lighter.

Jenny sighed. "You know how bad those are for you?" She stood up and put on her jean jacket then crossed her arms as she looked sternly at Anna.

Anna rolled her eyes as she lit the cigarette and took a long drag then exhaled slowly. "Yes, _Doctor_ Sullivan."

Jenny sighed and shook her head slightly before looking down at the grass.

"Sorry, Jen." Anna immediately regretted what she had said not only for the condescending tone, she knew Jenny didn't want to be a doctor but if she wanted her family's approval, that was her only career choice. She could certainly sympathize, Anna had once wanted to study fashion design, but her father had quickly put a stop to it.

Jenny shrugged and sat back on the bench.

Anna stepped away and continued to smoke. She stole a quick glance at Jenny, she had invited her to the park because she wanted to talk to her but she was hesitant. She wanted to tell her about her plans for the future, had been wanting to tell her for a while, but it never seemed to be the right time. Anna took a few more drags then looked around hoping to see a decent-looking man close by. But it was Friday night; she was not going to find handsome, single men at a park. Maybe she could take Jenny to do something fun, then talk to her after.

"If you have the driving license I got for you we can go to a pub."

Jenny sat up and smiled. "Yeah, and you can do your American accent!"

Anna laughed. "It's been too long since we've done that." She took another drag of her cigarette and looked around the park once more.

Richard had pushed Anna and Nina to learn how to mimic different accents so that they could blend in, but he had no idea how his youngest daughter misused her skills. Anna liked to use a fake passport (that she would not have known how to acquire without her father's teachings) and speak in her American accent while playing the part of a tourist visiting her cousin. There were always plenty of men eager to buy them drinks and show them a good time. The first time had been Jenny's idea, she looked innocent, but there were times when her wild ways could put Anna's to shame. But God and all his saints help her if her father ever found out.

Anna dropped the remainder of her cigarette on the grass and crushed it with the toe of her boot before going to join Jenny at the bench.

"What the hell?" Anna gaped at her friend when she saw the orange, tabby cat resting on her lap.

"Isn't she sweet?" Jenny looked up at Anna with a grin that made her look like she was twelve years old.

"Where did that thing come from?"

"I don't know, she just came up to me and started being friendly." Jenny stopped petting the cat and it jumped off her lap then began to rub itself against her ankles. "She's probably just a stray."

"Jesus, Jenny, it's like you're Snow White." It wasn't the first time that had happened, Jenny often found herself followed by stray cats and dogs. "You gonna take her down to the shelter?"

Jenny sighed as she picked up the cat again. "I don't know, she's so sweet I might just keep her for myself."

"How can you just pick her up like that, you don't know where she's been."

Jenny shrugged. "I'll just wash her when I get home."

"But now we can't do anything, no one is going to let us into a pub if we have a cat."

"Then I'll call my brother and he can take Petunia home for me," Jenny furrowed her brow as she stroked Petunia's fur, "though I really should be there to introduce her to Maurice, Agatha, and Persephone."

"Why do you give all your cats people names? And you just named her _Petunia_?"

"She looks like a Petunia, doesn't she? And I don't give them all people names, Petunia is the name of a flower, it's not my fault people are naming their kids after plants, and have you ever _met_ anyone named Persephone?"

Anna shook her head. "I can't believe a fucking cat is ruining our night."

"What's wrong with you today?"

Anna had been in a dark mood most of the day, now she was taking it out on Jenny and she knew that it wasn't fair. She sat next to her friend on the bench and watched the streetlamps come to life as the day turned to dusk.

Petunia hopped onto the bench and curled up next to Jenny. She had such a way with animals, in the two years they had been friends, she had told Anna repeatedly that she wanted to be a vet. But she came from a family of doctors and as such was expected to become a doctor, being an animal doctor didn't count.

"Sorry, Jen." Reluctantly, Anna began to stroke the top of Petunia's head with her index finger, she was awfully sweet, "Nina's home for a few weeks." She had arrived in the morning and that was what had spurred Anna to talk to Jenny about her plans.

"Oh," Jenny crossed her arms and stretched her legs, Anna wished her friend was wearing a skirt instead of jeans, along with the jacket, it was too much denim. "It's not fair that they expect so much from us, is it?"

It was true, it wasn't fair. That was why Anna was so close to Jenny, she knew how it felt to have your father expect the impossible from you and compare you to your own sibling.

"When Nina's gone he barely speaks to me unless we're training, and that's just to point out my mistakes." Jenny nodded solemnly, she had never told her exactly what _training_ was, but her friend was smart, Anna was sure that she had an accurate idea of what her father as training her for. "When Nina's here he only speaks to me to tell me all about Nina's accomplishments. And to point out my mistakes." She felt the need for a cigarette but didn't want to move away from her only source of comfort.

They sat quietly for a moment. The chill in the air became too much and Anna put on her jacket. Her heart began to beat faster and she knew that it was the right time to talk to Jenny.

"Fuck it all, I'm sick of them and I'm sick of this place, on the day I turn eighteen, I'm outta here."

Jenny sat up straight and turned to Anna. "Are you serious?" Anna nodded. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm moving to Paris," Anna smiled as she tucked her long, brown hair behind her ears, "I'm going to be a model."

"How?" Jenny had a bemused expression as if she were struggling to believe her. "You turn eighteen in a month-"

"Twenty-nine days." Anna corrected.

"And our exit exams are in two months. How are you going pay for a trip like that, I'm sure your father won't approve."

"My mother left me some money that I can have as soon as I turn eighteen." She shrugged. "And fuck school, who needs school when you're famous."

Jenny looked at her friend with concern. "I know I never knew your mother but wouldn't she want you to invest that money instead of spending it on a trip to Paris that will derail or at the very least put you behind on your education?"

"You're right," Anna said bitterly, "you _didn't_ know her, she wanted me to do exactly what I'm doing. And it's a lot of money, enough to make a new life somewhere else."

Jenny sighed. "Fine, so it's a lot of money, but Paris is expensive, and yeah, you're beautiful, but that doesn't mean that you'll be able to get work as a model, and even if you do, you probably won't even be able to make a living out of it. Sorry, just being realistic."

Anna pulled a business card out of her purse and showed it to Jenny. "I met this man at Patty's Cafe last month, he works for a modeling agency in Paris, he says he can get me work if I move there," Jenny took the card and furrowed her brow as she read it, "he says I'll have to start small, but he really thinks I have the potential to make a good living from it, to be famous."

Jenny handed the card back to Anna. "...Anna, those type of men lie to girls our age all the time, God knows we've seen them try, I just don't think-"

"He's legit," Anna could see it from Jenny's perspective, she always had been a realist and Anna appreciated it but her doubt was irritating nonetheless. "I checked him out."

"How did you check him out?"

"Made phone calls to French and local newspapers, modeling agencies, his exes, his acquaintances," she smiled wickedly, "you don't know what I've been trained to do, I know more about this man than the people he sleeps with." Again, it felt like a personal victory to use the training her father had given her in a way that he had never intended or foreseen. "He's legit, his agency is legit, and they do have a few girls who get on the cover of Vogue and who walk the runways in Milan."

Jenny shook her head slowly as she stroked Petunia's head. "What you've been trained to do...are you ever going to tell me exactly what that is?"

There was a sudden heaviness in her heart, the only person she trusted and she couldn't even tell her that. "I'll tell you everything when I'm free of this city and free of my father." She sat up and looked Jenny in the eye. "Join me."

"I don't want to live in Paris."

"No, join me in breaking out on your own, doing what you want with your life, you want to be a vet, be a vet, you can get into a university for free and-"

"Yeah, tuition is free but what about everything else? And I've been thinking..." She turned away from Anna. "I wouldn't do as much good as I'd like as a vet, what I really, really want to do is open a sort of animal rescue center."

"Like a shelter?"

She beamed at Anna. "Better, where animals can get rehabilitated then rehomed and where the ones that don't get adopted can stay in and live for the rest of their lives." She looked down at her shoes and her shoulders fell, "I'd make good money as a doctor, maybe in ten, fifteen years I can save up enough money to build something like that, I think Father is right and becoming a doctor might be what's best."

Anna sighed impatiently. "But you hate the idea."

"So? Lots of people hate their jobs and they trudge on through somehow."

"Do you really want to trudge? Do you really think you have the _patience_ to deal with people who either think they know better than you or who expect you to work miracles? People are assholes, that's why you're here spending Friday night with me instead of going to Mary's party; you hate people."

"I don't _hate_ people, what I hate is socializing with the ones our age, that's why I like older men." She shook her head. "I know how it must look to you, that I'm selling out or taking the easy road by avoiding confrontation with my family, but I'm just being a realist, becoming a doctor is the only way that I can do some good in this world, I know there are other ways, other choices, but this is the only choice I have." She stood and picked up Petunia in her arms. "You sever ties with your family to achieve your goals and I shackle myself to my family to achieve _my_ goals, we both have to make sacrifices, it's part of growing up."

Severing ties with her family was not what Anna called a sacrifice but she kept quiet. She pulled another cigarette out of her pack, lit it and began to smoke, she didn't care if Jenny or the damned cat didn't approve. She had been in a dark mood all day, she had counted on Jenny to lift her spirits and help her have some fun, to be happy for her and encouraging when she told her about her plans, but instead, she'd been met with nothing but disapproval. All the buildup of their talk had been for nothing and she had ended up being lectured.

"Anna…" Jenny spoke softly as she tapped her shoulder.

Anna looked up at her friend and noticed someone walking toward them. "Fuck this day." She dropped the cigarette but it was too late, Nina had already seen her.

"Does father know that you smoke?"


	5. Not Enough

.

 **This story is rated M for violence and mature themes.**

* * *

(Not Enough)

"She doesn't smoke!" Jenny blurted out as she stared wide-eyed at Anna. "She's was just trying it for the first time..." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and looked down at the cat in her arms, her eyes averting Nina's probing glare.

Nina turned to Anna. "Yes, I'm sure."

Anna shook her head. "Don't bother, Jen."

As the wind unexpectedly picked up, Nina used both hands to stop her long, blonde hair from flying in every direction. "It's so cold, I should have worn long sleeves. I've been in Barcelona for so long, I got used to the warmer weather."

Anna didn't know if it was true that she been in Barcelona, but she had noticed a slight tan when Nina returned. It gave her flawless skin a slightly darker tint that made her look like a golden goddess.

Anna ran her hands through her hair and held it tightly to the side. "What do you want, Nina?"

"I thought I'd take you out to dinner after you were done with youth group." She gave Jenny a reproachful look.

Jenny shrugged, " _I'm_ not in youth group, my father says that volunteering at the church once a month is enough, he wants me to concentrate on academics."

Anna stood from the bench. "Youth group is done, so dinner it is." She didn't know what Nina was up to but she doubted that it had anything to do with dinner.

Nina moved her hair to the side. "Why don't we give Jennifer a lift home, no restaurant will admit a cat, unfortunately."

"That's a good idea," Jenny smiled as her hair flew in every direction, "I should really get Petunia home."

Nina took the lead. "Let's go then, I'm freezing."

The two younger girls followed her quietly, they soon stopped next to a white BMW M3 parked on the side of the street. Nina unlocked it then sat in the driver's seat and closed the door.

Jenny's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Anna. "Maybe she won't tell your father you left youth group...or that you smoke."

Anna shrugged. "I don't care, twenty-nine more days and I'm gone." She opened the passenger's side and stepped inside. She reclined comfortably in the leather seat as she heard Jenny open the rear door and enter the vehicle.

"Don't let the cat scratch my seats or piss in my car." Nina looked sternly at Jenny through the rear-view mirror before starting the drive.

Anna watched the darkened storefronts as they traveled further and further away from the bustle of the pubs, as they distanced themselves from the promise of freedom and fun at a night club, and drove closer to the suburbs. Her night was ruined. Possibly her entire weekend. She looked at Nina and saw the clenched jaw and pursed lips. Her weekend was _definitely_ ruined.

Too soon, they arrived at Jenny's street, the last thing Anna wanted was to be alone with Nina without Jenny as a buffer for her lectures. The car stopped in front of a white house, one of many that looked almost identical with its brick facade and immaculately manicured hedges.

"I'll ring you tomorrow," Jenny told Anna as she opened the door, "We still need to finish our homework."

Anna turned in her seat to face her friend. "Better yet, get out of having breakfast with your family and let's meet at Patty's at nine."

Jenny lifted Petunia's paw and waved it to Anna. "We'll do our best." She said quietly as she exited the vehicle.

Anna called after her. "No cats."

Jenny waved Petunia's paw again and Anna couldn't help but laugh.

"Why did you leave youth group?" Nina asked as soon as the door was closed.

"Because it's mind-numbing and meaningless. But you wouldn't know that since no one ever made you go."

Nina turned her head to look at her sister then sighed and fixed her eyes on the street ahead as raindrops began to pelt the windshield. "We both have our parts to play, I'm the well-traveled one who studies abroad...and you're the pious one."

Anna laughed despite her dark mood, it was such a ridiculous statement, surely even Nina could see the humor in it.

"In what universe am I the pious one?"

"In the universe where your grades are shit and you don't join any school activities so Father has to choose them for you." Nina turned on the windshield wipers then gave Anna a quick glance. "You should be studying instead of wasting your afternoon."

"I _didn't_ want to waste my afternoon, that's why I didn't go to youth group."

"I meant, instead of wasting it with Jennifer."

Anna exhaled slowly. "She's the only person I actually enjoy being around, the only person I actually _trust_ and you want me to stop spending time with her?"

Nina was silent for a few moments then spoke as she looked straight ahead. "...How much do you trust her, exactly?"

"I'm not stupid, I'm not going to tell her anything about our _upstanding_ family. Do you think I want wake up one day and hear that the Sullivans have _mysteriously_ disappeared along with all their fucking cats?" Nina continued to drive in silence, she didn't spare her sister a glance. "...Jesus Christ…" Anna whispered as a heavy feeling settled in her stomach, she wanted Nina to tell her that it would never happen but her silence said it all.

"You need to join an after-school study group." There was urgency in Nina's voice as she quickly changed the subject. She was trying to make her father happy by steering Anna in the direction that he wanted and hoping that Anna wouldn't put up too much of a fight. It was nothing that she hadn't tried before. "You are barely passing your classes and you're doing it by getting nearly perfect scores on exams but failing almost every other assignment. How are you doing that?"

Anna honestly didn't know how or why she was passing her classes. She had been expecting the principal or the teachers to tell her that she owed them a favor, but so far they all carried on as normal. She could tell Nina just that, but it was the perfect opportunity to have some fun with her.

"How am I passing my classes?" Anna chuckled. "I could tell you, Sis," she lowered her voice, "but what happens under the principal's desk stays under the principal's desk." She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Nina steered the car hard to the left, the tire hit the curb before she stopped. "Don't say things like that," she pointed her finger as she chided Anna. "That is how rumors start, there are enough of those about you going around as it is."

Anna gave her sister a look of smug satisfaction. "Who says they're rumors?"

Nina's jaw grew tight. "Right now they're just rumors, you can stop them by going to mass, by joining school and church activities and getting better grades, but if you end up getting...pregnant, it will ruin our family's good name."

Anna shook her head in disbelief. "A pregnancy is what would ruin our family's _good_ name?" She scoffed. "And I'm not an idiot, I know how to use a condom."

"You have to stop doing those... _things_."

Anna shrugged. "I'm not going to stop doing those things," she said casually and leaned back in her seat. "So where are you taking me to dinner?"

Nina inhaled slowly then turned to fully face her sister. "Anna...Father is angry with you."

Anna's face turned blank as she looked straight ahead and gazed at the quiet suburbs through the rain splattered window. In the dark, the houses were invisible and the streetlamps and occasional vehicle reminded her of pale, lifeless Christmas lights. She didn't fear her father's anger, but the thought of him exhibiting anything other than indifference toward her made her heart race and the ghost of a smile appear slowly on her face.

Nina sighed deeply. "Are you listening to me?"

"I'm listening, what did I do?"

"He spoke to Father O'Malley on the phone, he says you haven't been to youth group in almost two weeks. Dad told him that I would take you to the church so you can give him a proper apology. He told Father O'Malley that you would go to youth group all three days and volunteer at the church on weekends." Anna slowly turned to face her as she felt her muscles tense and the heat rise in her face. "We're going now, and when we get home, you need to tell Dad that you smoke. It will help-"

"No."

Nina sighed again. "Can you please, just this _once_ make things easy for me?"

"No," Anna spoke firmly even though guilt wormed itself into her heart at the weary look on her sister's face. Nina was trying to be a good daughter and a good sister, she was trying to please her father and lead Anna in the right direction at the same time. Every day, every time she even thought of her father, Anna's resentment grew. It felt like pressure that was building in her chest, in her very being, and she didn't know how much longer she could bear it. Richard had never let Nina live the life of a normal child or teenager, there was so much that her sister had not experienced and it wasn't fair. "Take me home." Anna crossed her arms tightly and looked straight ahead.

Nina shook her head. "That's not what he wants."

Anna shrugged. "I don't care, take me home."

"Are you trying to make me look bad?"

Anna slammed her fist on the dashboard. "This isn't about you!" She twisted her body in the seat to turn toward Nina. "This is about _him_. He needs to act like a father at least once in his lifetime! I want him to scream at me, I want him to tell me that I'm not allowed to leave the house until my grades pick up, I want to feel like I have a goddamned father!" She turned to face forward in her seat, fists clenched at her sides. "So take me the fuck home or I'm getting out and walking there."

Nina looked straight ahead as she put the car into drive. "If he blames me for this," she said as she pulled back into traffic, "if he's angry with me... I'm going to make you pay."

"Oh, I'm not worried. We both know you can do no wrong."

Anna could feel her sister's anger as they drove home, it was like heat radiating from her, attempting to suffocate her. Anna's heart was racing, she clenched her teeth to keep from saying anything she would regret later. She was glad that Aunt Christina was away for the week, Anna did not want her to be involved or to even witness the confrontation she was about to have with her father. Christina was someone else who had been tasked with doing her father's job and it wasn't fair to her either.

"I don't even know if he's home." Nina said as their house came into view. "Frederick was there when I left, I think they were going to a meeting."

 _To a meeting on a Friday night._ Anna knew exactly what that meant. Frederick was his driver and bodyguard, if he was there it meant that they were going to scout an area for a job or meet with people that Richard didn't know or trusted.

It had stopped raining when they arrived. The red, brick Victorian home that was the envy of most, loomed overhead. She had loved living in it once, playing in its garden full of fragrant flowers and manicured hedges, resting under the shade of the willow trees. But it had been years since it had felt comforting or even luxurious; year by year, it grew to feel like a prison. _Twenty-nine days._ Anna reminded herself as Nina pushed the button on the sun visor to open the wrought iron gate. Nina drove slowly in, too slow, Anna opened the door before the vehicle had come to a full stop.

Nina slammed on the breaks. "What the hell are you doing?"

Anna stepped out of the vehicle and did not bother closing the door. She immediately walked toward the front entrance, the sharp sound or her clacking heels on the brick-paved driveway echoing in the night. Walking up the steps, she fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the wooden, double doors. Pushing the door closed behind her, she began to make her way down the entrance hall putting the keys back inside her bag. A heavy feeling settled in her chest as she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

She gasped and covered her own mouth realizing that the last thing she should do was make a sound. A long, red streak marred the polished, wood floor. Someone was face down on the living room floor, near the bottom of the stairs. She took a small step back to avoid stepping on the blood.

Years of training kicked in and she steadied her breathing and set her purse slowly on the floor. She left the foyer, advancing slowly trying to be as quiet as possible while walking with high-heeled boots on the hardwood floor. She reached the fireplace in the living room and pulled a false, corner brick just beneath the mantel, and quickly took the gun that was concealed inside.

She pulled back the hammer and held it in front of her, barrel pointed down. She walked slowly toward the body and recognized the victim as Frederick, her father's bodyguard.

She inhaled sharply as she heard a noise coming from upstairs. A soft thud. She almost started for the front entrance as a fleeting thought of going back to tell Nina crossed her mind. But what if this was her chance to prove herself to both her father and her sister? Her steps were already guiding her toward the stairs before she even gave it a second thought. This was the field test coming to _her_ , the one her father had never believed she was worthy of.

Quiet steps, gun ready.

She made her way to the bottom of the stairs.

Up one step.

Alert, gun ready.

Up the next step.

The intruder was halfway down the stairs, quiet as a shadow when Anna pointed her weapon and in turn, found herself staring up at the barrel of a gun.

Anna's grip on her weapon was steady and tight, finger on the trigger as she looked up at the woman. She was dressed in black and she was young. Her coppery-red hair was tied behind her head, her face was familiar, but her eyes were the feature that struck Anna. Green and wide, cold as ice.

The intruder's icy glare softened, her brow furrowed. "You're not supposed to be here..." She said with a shake of her head.

Anna's breath hitched in her throat. The intruder's voice had changed somewhat but she recognized instantly.

"Margaret?" She uttered the name of the friend she had not seen since she was eleven years old. It was as if her limbs had turned to lead as the image of the dead bodyguard came rushing back, as she looked from the barrel of the gun pointing to her head to the eyes of the young woman holding the weapon.

"This should have stayed between our fathers, but I-"

"Where is my father?" Anna's voice came out in a whisper.

Margaret lowered the gun and spoke with regret in her voice. "You weren't supposed to be here," she said again.

"Where is he?" Anna felt a tightening in her chest as her hands began to shake.

Margaret's voice was almost inaudible. "The library."

It hurt to breathe. She had to go to him, but that would mean letting Margaret go... Should she shoot? _Pull the trigger._ She heard voice inside her own head. But she couldn't do it. What if he was alive?

Sensing her hesitation, Margaret pushed past her and ran down the stairs.

Anna lowered her gun and ran up the steps, then into the hallway. Her footsteps becoming heavier as she neared the library, when she reached the door, she looked inside and saw Richard near the entrance. He was on his back on the floor, his hands over his chest, his light-gray shirt stained with dark red. She rushed to him and fell to her knees. He was breathing too slowly and blood had leaked out of the corner of his mouth and seeped onto his beard. He looked up at her with vacant eyes.

"Daddy…" Anna set the gun on the floor and put her hands over the wound, "...what do I do?" Her voice was strange in her ears, too shaky and high-pitched. "What do I do?"

"...Nina?" Her father's feeble voice was barely audible.

"It's Anna, daddy, please tell me what to do."

"...Nina…"

He stopped breathing and was still.

Anna couldn't move, could not utter any words. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. She looked down at her hands as she felt the warm, thick fluid coating them, covering them like gloves, staining her sleeves and her skirt. She watched the stains grow and seep deeper into the fabric while she heard footsteps in the hallway.

She couldn't move.

"Is he...gone?" She heard Nina's strained voice behind her.

She couldn't speak.

For a few moments, everything was quiet, unnaturally still in the room.

Nina's voice broke the silence, it was different, harsh. "Did you see who did it?"

"No." The word escaped Anna's lips before she could think about it.

"You were here five full minutes before I was and you saw _nothing_?" Nina had never spoken to her in such a hateful and condescending tone. "You should have gone back outside as soon as you noticed something was wrong."

Anger sparked inside Anna. Nina's voice was so cold and accusatory, so reminiscent of her father. It was exactly what he would have said to her.

She stood up and wiped her hands on her ruined coat. She turned to look at Nina, she was glaring at her, her jaw tight and a gun in her hand, she was rage personified as she stormed out of the room. Anna realized that she had made the right choice. If she told her that Margaret had been the one responsible, she would kill her, no questions asked. And she needed answers.

Anna stood alone with her father, rooted to the spot and looked down at her bloodstained hands. Her father's blood.

 _Nina._

He had spoken Nina's name with his last breath. The one who could do no wrong. The one he loved.

"But _I_ was here..."

And it had not been enough.


	6. Red

.

(Red)

* * *

On the day of her father's funeral, she wore red. The color of anger, the color of blood. The color that she saw when she was trying to sleep, when she was eating, or showering, or sitting down doing nothing. Her father's blood, all over the floor, all over her hands.

The dress had once belonged to her mother; it was knee-length and conservative, with long sleeves and black buttons that ran from the neckline to the waist. Not what her mother would have wanted her to wear, but she was not aiming to honor the memory of her mother that day. That was the day she had decided to do things on her own and in her own way.

Three days had passed since her father's death, three days of cold silence from her sister, three days of nervous looks and false smiles from her aunt; three days of being treated like a child. The two women were together often speaking in hushed, sometimes urgent tones when they were in a hallway or when they thought they were alone. Christina always looked worried, Nina ever stoic, and both became silent when Anna made her presence known.

Anna grew tired of it. If no one was willing to share information with her, she was not about to share information with anyone. At one point, she had entertained the thought of telling Christina that Margaret was her father's killer. But as her aunt seemed to only put her trust in Nina, Anna made peace with the fact that she was on her own.

Anna opened the top drawer of her bedside table and pulled out her Glock 19. She pulled up her skirt and secured the gun in the holster wrapped around her leg. It was purely for protection, just in case something went wrong. She stood up, walked to the full-length mirror, and studied her image, the feel of the heavy metal against her inner thigh was strange but somehow comforting. It was a reminder that she was the only person she could rely on. She put on a pair of red pumps and slowly spun in front of the mirror. The gun was completely concealed.

Anna's plan was not what Nina or Richard would have called a plan; even _she_ knew better than to call it a plan. All she knew was that she had to see Margaret and speak to her face to face. But no one knew where Margaret was, had not seen her in years. Although Anna hated to get Jenny involved, she had tasked her with finding information on Margaret. But it may have been easier to find a ghost. Everyone at school and at church had lost contact with Margaret after she moved to Germany with her mother. That had been shortly after the death of her brother, Robbie. Margaret's father, Thomas Callahan, lived in Dublin, he owned an accounting business. Anna's grand plan consisted of paying him a visit, perhaps asking for a job or an internship in his company. Maybe then she could find a way to see Margaret.

Anna tucked her long, brown hair behind her ears, took her purse from a hook on the wall, and left her bedroom.

She crossed the hallway and made her way down the stairs, then paused when she was almost at the bottom. Her back grew rigid at the sound of footsteps. She turned, her hand tight on the railing as she braced herself, expecting to see Margaret. She inhaled sharply, reminding herself that it couldn't be her. Her muscles relaxed when she saw Christina at the top of the stairs, she let go of the railing and walked down the last step.

"Are you and your sister ready?" Christina looked down at her hands as she pulled on her black, silk gloves.

Anna stood up straight, her hands clasping her purse. "I'm ready."

"I know it's still early but-" Christina stopped on the last stair, her mouth tight as she saw her niece.

"I kept some of my mother's clothes," Anna began before Christina could object. "This was hers and I just-"

"Anna, today is not the day to rebel." She stepped down and walked toward her. "We have to face this tragedy with dignity and-"

"I know, Auntie," Anna spoke softly, "I know what people will say, and I don't care."

"You _can't_ be testing me already."

"I don't care what they think because they weren't there, they didn't see my father gasp his last breath, they didn't see his blood all over the floor, didn't feel it on their hands. I don't care what they think."

Christina took her hand. "Darling... How is wearing this going to-"

"I want whoever did this to us to know that we will not sit back, blend into the background, and be forgotten."

"Sometimes, it's best to let them think that."

"Why? Do you have a plan, do you even know who it was?"

"No." Christina looked pointedly at her, then her eyes softened. "I know it's frustrating, but please believe me when I say that Nina...that _we_ are trying to protect you. Just please tell me that you're not going to go off on your own." Even though Christina couldn't see it, the metal against her thigh made her heartbeat accelerate. "Please tell me that you will be patient and I promise-"

Both women turned their heads at the sound of someone walking down the stairs. Viktor, Christina's boyfriend, had come from Vienna to give Christina his support and had been met with nothing but whispers and secrecy for his efforts. Anna didn't know how he could stand it.

Viktor looked at Anna, his face taking on a bemused expression. Christina gave a short nervous laugh then began to speak quickly in German as she gestured toward Anna.

"Your mother's dress?" Viktor smiled kindly as he took Christina's hand. He was in his mid-forties, tall, handsome, and dark-haired. "Everyone grieves in their own way. You look beautiful, Anna."

"Thank you."

The man had kind eyes and a genuine smile. He was utterly out of place in the Williams household.

Nina emerged from the hallway, dressed in drab black like everyone else. She looked at Anna with a piercing gaze, her jaw tight.

"I know it's early," Christina said quickly, undoubtedly trying to prevent a fight between Anna and Nina in front of Viktor. "But we should go. I need to make sure everything is perfect...and safe. Let's go, girls." She took Viktor's arm, and they made their way toward the exit.

"You look like a whore," Nina spat the first words she'd said to her since the day Richard had died.

Anna's fingers twitched, and her muscles tensed as she stopped herself from striking her sister. "This was our mother's dress."

Nina's jaw clenched, and her eyes bore into Anna's. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty for telling you what you need to hear?"

"I'm just trying to get you to talk to me."

Nina tore her gaze from Anna and stalked toward the door. Anna followed her out, then into the vehicle.

Inside the limousine, it was soul-crushingly quiet, but after three days of silence, what else could she expect? Even if Viktor wasn't there, Nina and Christina would have said nothing, revealed nothing about their plans or whatever leads they had. She had no choice but to go to Callahan and find information herself.

* * *

At the church, Anna's red dress drew every eye. She was a scarlet dot in a monochrome sea of black, a flame among moths.

She followed Christina and joined her, Nina, and Viktor at the front pew.

As she sat down and smoothed down her skirt, she had to stifle a laugh. A gun in a church. A red dress. What would her father think if he saw her?

But the feeling of dark amusement was quickly replaced by an ache in her throat and a heaviness in her chest. Her father couldn't see her, he was inside the dark mahogany casket beneath the altar, covered in an excessive amount of white lily arrangements. He would have hated it. Anna imagined him at home pacing in front of the fireplace, shaking his head and grumbling about the two-faced mourners who had never known him in life. She imagined him pouring himself a glass of bourbon after his rant, then growing quiet and sitting in his favorite armchair as he sipped from his glass.

 _It will never happen again. He will never be there again._

The image of her father dying in the library formed in her mind's eye before she could stop it. She looked down at her hands when she felt the warm, red fluid coating them. She turned her palms upward and saw that they were clean. She clasped them in front of her stomach and focused on the scene before her. She tried to focus on what the Father O'Malley was saying, on the meaningless rituals, but it was no use. She saw her father's bodyguard dead on the floor, then Margaret's wide, green eyes. The priest spoke, and everyone answered in unison, their voices sounded like bees buzzing, and she had the urge to cover her ears to tune them out. She focused on the casket again.

 _Dead and gone, never coming back. Gone._

After mass, they followed the pallbearers carrying the casket out of the church and watched as it was placed inside the hearse. Then, she was back in the limo, on the way to the cemetery.

"I'm proud of you, girls," Christina gave them a sad smile. "You are the picture of dignity and grace; no tears."

 _No tears, what an accomplishment._

As before, they were enveloped in complete silence for the entirety of the drive.

What were they thinking? What were they planning? What did they know? Anna asked herself those questions again and again until her brain felt numb. Her head started to throb, and she had the urge to open the door and jump out of the vehicle, to run until her legs couldn't carry her anymore.

When the limo stopped, she stepped out without waiting for anyone, ready to walk away, but Christina took her hand before she could move.

"We walk together." The look in her eyes was pleading as if she were asking her not to make a scene.

Anna sighed and stood next to her as they waited for Nina and Viktor to exit the vehicle. It wasn't that Anna cared what anyone thought if they saw her walk away from her own father's funeral, but he was going to be buried next to her mother. If her mother were there instead of Christina, what would she think if she watched her walk away? She had disrespected her and her memory enough for one day. And it had been so long since she'd seen her.

They walked to the gravesite along with Father O'Malley and the so-called mourners. If they knew the type of person Richard really was, would they still be there?

"Anna." She turned and saw Jenny walking next to her. "Sorry I didn't wear black; you know all I have is denim and neon."

Anna allowed herself a small smile as she took Jenny's hand. "I'm glad you didn't."

For a moment, she wished that Jenny had stayed away. Seeing her made her want to pour her heart out, cry and scream. It made her want to behave like the orphaned seventeen-year-old that she was. Made her want to forgo all the dignity and grace that was so important to a Williams. But she held her composure.

Having Jenny by her side made everything bearable. She saw that her mother's grave was covered in fresh, white lilies. It made Anna's heart swell and hurt at the same time. Her aunt had more respect for her mother than she did. She couldn't even remember the last time that she had visited her mother's grave.

As Father O'Malley said the final prayer over her father's casket, Anna looked to her right wanting to touch Nina, to at least elicit a look from her. At their mother's funeral, Nina had been holding her hand and giving her reassuring looks and sad smiles. As Richard was being lowered into the ground, Anna was met with nothing, not even an icy glare. That would have been preferable to cold indifference.

In an instant, the casket was gone. Her father was gone. Her parents were both gone. She was an orphan. Her lungs felt empty, her chest tight. She felt Christina's gloved fingers wrap tightly around her hand, felt Jenny's head on her shoulder, and the pressure eased somewhat. She closed her eyes until she could breathe freely again and saw Father O'Malley approaching.

He looked at Christina as he spoke but not before giving Anna a sidelong glance. "You are strength and poise personified."

"Thank you, Father."

Father O'Malley put a hand on Christina's shoulder. "My door is always open for you and your family, don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."

Out of the corner of her eye, Anna saw blonde hair sway in the breeze. She turned, looking for Nina, but she was nowhere to be seen among the crowd.

She whispered urgently to Jennifer. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Nina."

Jenny shrugged as she looked around.

An elderly couple had joined Christina and Father O'Malley, she seemed to be introducing Viktor to them. She saw others ambling toward her, ready to give their condolences.

 _Where is Nina?_ Did she know about Margaret? Did she have a lead, or was she following a plan? Anna's heart began to drum in her chest. It was time.

She turned to Jenny. "I have to go."

"Where?"

Christina and Viktor had their backs to her, talking to people, thanking them for attending.

"Anna," she felt Jenny's hand on her arm. "What do you need to do?"

"I don't know."

"I'll go with you."

"I'm sorry, it's a family matter. I have to find my sister."

"Anna..."

"I'll call you later."

She looked back to make sure that Christina was still distracted then made her way toward the street as quickly as she could. She had to be fast, there was no point in trying to be inconspicuous when she was walking away from a funeral while wearing a red dress.


	7. The Accountant

.

 **Rated M for violence.**

* * *

(The Accountant)

* * *

Anna paid the taxi driver and stepped out onto the curb. It was not the first time that she had been to the Callahan's home. There had been play dates and sleepovers with Margaret when they were little girls, but it felt like it had happened in a different life.

As a child, everything had seemed big and wide and high. Hills were mountains, lakes were oceans, and gardens were forests. As she grew older, she saw how small and ordinary things truly were. This was not the case with the Callahan house.

The red brick structure seemed to have more windows and a higher and more pointed roof than she remembered. The path from the driveway to the front door seemed longer, the gardens wider, even the gate looked ominous.

She inhaled deeply before pushing the button on the panel next to the black, iron gate.

 _"Yes?"_ A male voice came through the intercom.

"This is Anna Williams, I need to speak with Mr. Callahan."

 _"What is this regarding?"_

"An...um...I want to ask about employment opportunities."

Silence.

She stood for nearly a minute, looking around, hoping that no one who could recognize her would drive by. Her finger hovered over the button as she wondered if she should call again. Just before she pushed it, the gate buzzed open. She looked around once more before stepping through and hearing it close behind her.

A tall man in a dark suit stepped out of the front door and watched her as she walked. "You want to inquire about an employment opportunity?" He asked when she stopped in front of the steps.

"Yes."

He opened the door and motioned her inside. "Mr. Callahan will be here in a moment."

She nodded stiffly, trying not to let her eyes wander as she tried to look confident and composed.

The man in the suit did not once take his eyes off her; it made her feel uncomfortable. It was a relief when Thomas Callahan appeared down the hallway. He was taller than her father had been and older by about five years, his once coppery-red hair was mixed with abundant gray.

His cold, green eyes regarded her carefully as he spoke. "Do you have a weapon on you, girl?" Callahan crossed his arms. "Be honest with me now."

Anna's throat went dry, her heart drummed in her chest. "I have a gun."

The man in the suit took a small step toward her.

Callahan's brow furrowed. "Why do you need a gun?"

"My father was just murdered, it's for protection."

"Where is it?"

"Holstered to my thigh."

"Let's see it, pull up your dress."

She couldn't stop the flicker of fear before it reached her eyes and hated herself for it. Her face grew hot as she wondered what her father would say if he knew she had put herself in such a situation. It was infuriating as well as humiliating, her ill-conceived plan was falling apart already.

She tried to be defiant. "No."

"I'm not doing it for my enjoyment, you're Margaret's age for God's sake. I'm giving you the courtesy of doing it yourself instead of having Patrick do it for you."

His condescending tone grated on her and reminded her of Richard, but she knew she had no choice but to do as he asked. Anna pulled the soft, red fabric up to her thighs until it revealed the handgun. She was not even five minutes into her first mission, and she was already being disarmed.

"Give it to me. Slowly." She complied, taking it by the barrel she offered him the grip. "Is it yours?" Callahan asked as he examined the weapon.

"Yes."

"Do you know how to use it?"

"Yes."

"Do you always carry it with you, or was this a _special_ occasion?"

"I carry it everywhere, except school."

He held out his hand. "The purse."

Anna handed it to him without complaint.

"Where are you coming from dressed like that?" He asked as he passed the purse to Patrick. "Is there a party somewhere on Monday at two o'clock in the afternoon?"

She felt her cheeks flush. "I was at my father's funeral."

Callahan scoffed. "Not only are you committing a crime by carrying an illegal weapon, you wore red to your own father's funeral?" He shook his head, "I thought Richard raised his daughters better than that."

Anna didn't know what to say Richard had failed her and Nina in so many ways.

Callahan sighed as he pocketed her gun. "Come, girl, join me in the back patio for some tea, it'd be a shame to waste this day by talking inside." He turned to his bodyguard. "There's tea already prepared in the kitchen, bring it out."

She discreetly scanned her surroundings as she followed him down the welcoming hall. The hall seemed newly renovated with gold accents, paintings, and decorations that were much too gaudy. She caught a glimpse of the sitting room, it was different from what she remembered, with green carpet and curtains, dark wood, and cream-colored sofas. The two windows in the room were both closed, probably locked, not ideal for making a quick escape. The stairs to the second floor were in the same hall, but she would not go upstairs, it was a death sentence.

At the end of the welcoming hall was the entrance to the rear garden. Callahan opened the door and held it open for her then walked behind her onto the stone-paved terrace.

The lack of conversation put was beginning to put Anna on edge and she attempted to break the silence.

"How is Margaret?"

"Thriving."

Callahan motioned toward a round, glass table, Anna pulled out one of the four chairs and took a seat, he followed suit.

It was not easy to make small talk with a man who obviously hated the mere sight of her. She felt like she was digging her own grave, going deeper and deeper by the second. She had no plan, no weapon, and she was trapped in a house with two men who were undoubtedly armed. She fidgeted with her hands under the table as she examined her surroundings. The perfectly manicured green lawn was encircled by a tall, wrought iron fence. The trees and shrubbery completely blocked the view beyond it. If she needed to escape, she would have to go back inside or take her chances exploring behind shrubs and trees for a way out.

Anna cleared her throat and tried to smile. "We were only children the last time I saw her."

"You're _still_ children."

She wondered if leaving was still an option. If she said that she had changed her mind and needed to go, would he give her back her gun and send her on her way? How _was_ she going to get it back?

"I never had the chance to give Margaret, or you, my condolences after Robbie...passed away."

Callahan's back stiffened at her comment. He chuckled to himself before speaking. "You're here to talk about employment opportunities, correct?"

"Um, yes."

"Are you done with school?"

"Well, no I-"

"What employment opportunities could I possibly have for a girl who has not finished school?"

The door opened, and Patrick stepped outside holding a silver tray with a porcelain teapot and cups. He set it carefully between Anna and Callahan. She noticed the gun holstered to his side as he bent down. It made her uneasy, and she looked at the tray, hoping to find something useful in case she had to defend herself. _Yes, a butter knife in a gunfight would be helpful._ She wished she could laugh, but she just felt a tightening in her lungs. And there wasn't even a butter knife to use, just teacups and a couple of stirring spoons.

"Well?" Callahan prompted as he poured the tea.

She watched Patrick as he walked back into the house. "I was hoping to work after school, not get paid, just-"

"That I don't believe, why would you want to work for free? Why would you want to work at all? Didn't your father leave you enough money? Aren't you going to attend a university?"

"I'm not ready, I need to learn something practical I need to learn how to be on my own and make my way in the world."

Callahan spoke as he stirred cream into his tea. "I already have a teenage girl to raise. You are Christina's responsibility."

"I'm doing this _for_ her as well as for me. Now that Father is gone, I need to be close to someone with a powerful name, a name that carries weight. Someone murdered him in his own home, I don't want my aunt or my sister to be next?"

He took a small sip, then set down his cup and looked calmly at her. "First you say that you're looking for employment opportunities, now you're saying that you want my protection?"

It was worse than she could have anticipated. With every word she said, she was digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole, making her story more convoluted. She couldn't even read Callahan's expression, he could have been plotting to throw her out or to kill her, and she wouldn't have known the difference.

"I don't want your protection, I want to be associated with you and your name."

He laughed. "I do have the best accountants in town, but I don't know that being associated with my business will protect you from anything."

He was patronizing her, treating her like a child just the same as everyone always had. It took every shred of self-control that she possessed to appear composed. "Not accounting, your _real_ business, the business that bought this house, paid for your bodyguard, and sent Margaret to study abroad."

Callahan's voice was flat. "You are speaking nonsense."

The look in his eyes was hard as steel, his mouth a tight line. Anna could see that she had gotten to him, and it lit a spark in her, made her feel bold.

She watched him stir his tea for a moment. "...Why did you take my gun?" It was such an obvious question, she didn't know why she didn't think to ask before.

"Because I can't have an unbalanced girl with a weapon loose in my home."

"Are school-aged girls you come across usually armed?"

He exhaled slowly but his expression remained impassive. "Why are you here, Anna?"

How far could she push? Where was the balance? The line between getting a confession and getting shot?

"I have never met a single girl my age who has even _seen_ a real gun."

"Answer my question, why are you here?"

"Why do you have a bodyguard? Do all accountants have one?"

He shifted in his seat. "What kind of question is that?"

"A valid question. My father had a bodyguard too, and it wasn't because he was an investment manager." Anna leaned in slightly. "Why did you think I was armed? Is it because Margaret carries a gun too?"

"She does not."

"I know that she does."

"She does not."

"I saw her when-"

"You didn't see her."

"I saw her when she killed my father."

Callahan's hand moved with speed and precision toward the inside of his jacket, but Anna was faster. Her body lurched forward, and her hand acted of its own volition, taking the spoon by the bowl and lodging the handle into Callahan's windpipe.

She watched wide-eyed as the man clutched at his throat, trying to pull at the silver spoon. Her first instinct was to get away, to run, but she was losing her footing, falling with Callahan as he grabbed hold of her collar, the table tumbling with them and the scalding-hot tea splashing on her lap as they hit the ground.

The sounds of clattering, shattering, breaking, and the sharp pain on her knees dulled her senses. Callahan was on top of her, his hand around her throat, Anna tried to pry his fingers off, but he only squeezed harder. She pulled her elbow back and struck his chest with the heel of her palm again and again. His grip loosened, and she pushed him off.

She reached into Callahan's jacket and found her gun just as she heard quick, heavy footsteps. Acting on instinct, she raised her gun and pointed it toward the sound. Patrick had her in his sights. She squeezed the trigger three times in quick succession, and Patrick fell backward, landing still on the ground.

She heard Callahan stir behind her and turned to see him trying to aim his gun at her. Anna's hand was steady as she squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit him between the eyes before he had a chance to aim. The gun clattered as it fell out of his hand.

Everything was still. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, and there was a ringing, high-pitched, deafening.

She moved her head slowly as she scanned the area.

Overturned table and chairs. Shattered porcelain. Tea and cream spilled on the ground.

And blood.

 _How will I clean it?_

Two men were dead, and she was alive.

She had killed two men.

It didn't feel like a dream, it didn't feel like a nightmare, it felt real, it _was_ real. She was there at that moment in time, there was no escaping that fact. She knew that she should leave, that she should run, but she was rooted to the spot, wondering how to clean all that blood.


End file.
